


Mark of the Demon

by ryulabird



Category: DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), DCU, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack Treated Seriously, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Faust is an asshole, Harry is a Little Shit, Lazarus Pit, M/M, Magic, Master of Death Harry Potter, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The League of Assassins (DCU), What Have I Done, author is losing her mind from isolation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryulabird/pseuds/ryulabird
Summary: The name of your soulmate is written on the back of your hand, a mark that lasts until the day your soulmate dies. Ra's al Ghul had a mark once, long ago before he ever was the Demon's Head. As all marks do, his mark vanished with his beloved's death.But then came the Lazarus Pit, and the mark gifted to him when he first emerged from its healing waters. A second soulmark, hidden where he would never have seen it on his own. A mark he spent centuries looking for yet never found... until suddenly he did.
Relationships: Ra's al Ghul/Harry Potter
Comments: 140
Kudos: 743





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me for this. I thought it would be funny? Except then a plot formed? And Ra's just kind of took over the whole thing??? I wanted crack and this happened.
> 
> Please comment. Let me know if I have convinced anyone else to dive into this dumpster pairing... don't leave me alone down here!

* * *

It was the most basic exercise in the League of Assassins, one which had been given as a test for only the top tier of recruits ever since the League’s inception. It was also quite different from the other various tests of loyalty and skill which must be passed before one became a true Shadow. This particular task was one which Ra’s al Ghul set for only the most promising, the most trusted of those who had already proved their worth time and again. Because this test was a sign of _his_ trust, a sign that he knew they were sworn to him for all their lives.

It was also the only exercise which his Shadows were allowed to fail. This was because, in all the centuries Ra’s had been sending his followers out to this task, not one had ever succeeded. He had never succeeded.

This time was no different, but as he read over the report sent back to him, Ra’s couldn’t help but feel this was different from previous failures.

“Is there something wrong, Master?” 

His newest, and so far most interesting, student broke his train of thought, and Ra’s put the report down to look at the young man. Young Wayne was playing at servitude at his feet, holding a kneeling position, ready to answer any order Ra’s might have for him until nightfall.

“Your role as my attendant,” Ra’s chastised lightly, “requires you to remain silent until I give you leave to speak.”

Wayne frowned, so faintly that it was barely noticeable but Ra’s was looking for it. The young man was very bad at lowering himself, and were he any other Ra’s would have ensured he was properly broken in before allowing him such an intimate position. But Bruce Wayne was not like his other recruits. He was highly gifted, and highly born, and his questing soul needed more direct guidance from Ra’s than he needed humbling. His training was different and had far more allowances than any others’ because the end result would be vastly greater than the average assassin.

“I’m sorry, Master.” No, he was not, but it did amuse Ra’s to watch him struggle to hide his displeasure. “But you don’t normally have any reaction to the reports you read. This one has you glaring like you want the paper to catch fire.”

Ra’s couldn’t help but laugh. Here was another reason he still allowed Wayne his pride when serving him. Not many recruited into the League of Shadows would dare to speak with him like they were his equal, even before training had taught them respect. He made a decision as he smirked down at the young man, still kneeling properly and his face returned to practiced blankness, and stood.

“Come with me,” he said, and without waiting for Wayne to rise, walked away. He meandered leisurely through his halls, past other recruits and servants who parted for him with bowed heads, until he finally came to a balcony looking over both the gardens on the south side of the citadel and the training plaza on the east.

He stood for a long time in silence, enjoying this one small corner of his vast kingdom, waiting for Wayne to show his impatience. But he had learned much since first coming here, and held out as long as possible. It wasn’t until the sun was close to setting-- close to when he would be dismissed from Ra’s’ side, possibly for weeks-- that Wayne finally shifted on his feet behind him. 

Ra’s smiled.

“Do you have your soulmark yet?” he asked pleasantly. He knew the answer of course. Nothing escaped his notice when it came to those he allowed into his home.

“No,” Wayne said. His voice neared a growl, but couldn’t quite be called disrespectful. Of course, if he had a soulmark and the one who came with it, he might never have left his home, lost and angry and searching for something which Ra’s would happily provide. “Do you?” he challenged, and Ra’s allowed the tone only because he encouraged such spirit from him.

“I do,” he said. “In fact, I have had two soulmarks in my lifetime.”

He could almost hear the confusion as Wayne’s mind stuttered over the statement, trying to make sense of it. No one ever had more than one mark, not even if their soulmate died and the mark vanished.

“My first mark,” Ra’s said as he placed his right hand over his left. The skin there was bare, as it had been for centuries, “was for my wife. Before I became the Demon’s Head.”

“When you were still a man.”

Ra’s laughed. “When I was still mortal, yes.” He let his hand go and looked up at the darkening sky. “But after her death, when I first entered the Lazarus Pit, when I first emerged from those burning waters-- I had a new mark. A new name, bestowed upon me by the Pit.”

“But--” Wayne sounded sickly curious. “How can that be possible? Does everyone who goes into the Pit get another soulmark?”

“No, young one,” Ra’s said. “Only myself.”

There was silence for a while then, as Wayne turned the strange information over in his head, and Ra’s counted the stars as they appeared.

“And… what does this have to do with the report you were reading?” Wayne finally asked.

“For centuries, I have been searching,” Ra’s said. “When I formed the League, one of the duties I gave them was to continue that search.” His hands clenched around the stone railing of the balcony, and he had to hold back from crushing it because it really was a beautiful work of art that he’d rather not replace over such a minor-- if infuriating-- outburst. “In over six hundred years, I have yet to find the one whose name I bear.”

“I would think then you’d be used to the disappointment then.”

Ra’s laughed and carefully let go of the stone so he could turn and face his young pupil.

“You think I am furious because my Shadows have yet again failed to find any trace of my soulmate?”

Wayne frowned, mind suddenly whirring as he went over what Ra’s had told him again, recognizing that he’d missed some clue.

“In the last century or so, someone with the name I hold is found every few decades,” Ra’s said pleasantly. “It is an absurdly common name, unfortunately. But you know as well as I, that they must also bear my name for there to be a true connection.

“And you are right, of course,” Ra’s turned away from the young man again, hands held still by his sides. “I am far too used to disappointment. I no longer even think of those who are found, watched over, and then bear the mark of another.”

“But this time is different….”

“Yes.” Ra’s glared out at the growing night. _“This_ time, my Shadows found someone who seemingly appeared out of nowhere with the name, already fully grown. Public records also appeared out of nowhere, claiming this person was born nearly two decades ago, to a family that has since all died out.”

“You think someone is pretending to be your soulmate,” Wayne said in sudden realization.

“What I think,” Ra’s said coldly, “is that I have a traitor in my League. Only a precious few ever learn the name I am looking for, and now someone has created a false identity with it.”

Wayne didn’t respond. He was likely disturbed and confused still. No one could really _pretend_ to be another’s soulmate; it was a ruse that would be instantly uncovered, not even children could be tricked by such a thing. But he also didn’t understand what it meant to be over six hundred years old, and still be searching for someone meant to complete him. Wayne hadn’t even started his search for his soulmate, being one of the unlucky few to not get a mark before his sixteenth birthday and still waiting. Even so, he went out in the world searching for something else to fill the holes in his heart while he waited.

He also had no idea how many enemies Ra’s had created over those long centuries. Even if the ruse was easily seen through, it could still be used to unsettle him.

“They will pay for their insolence,” he said fiercely. “They will _pay.”_

* * *

The first instruction Ra’s sent to the agent who found his supposed soulmate, was to retrieve proof of a mark. It always paid to make sure after all.

Ra’s actually expected for his name to be tattooed on the target-- not a true soulmark, but that could be determined once they were brought before him and they touched. However, his assassin sent back pictures of bare hands-- no mark, no name, nothing.

That… was unexpected.

It struck him that, if this was not a plot by some hidden enemy of his, some cruel traitor, then there might be a legitimate reason for the boy’s records to have appeared as suddenly as he did. Perhaps hiding the boy in the first place had been the plot against him. 

If someone _else_ had found the boy first-- saw the name by chance, by design, by whatever led another to _this_ person’s birth-- then perhaps, his soulmate was only being revealed now, when he did not have a mark yet, but might already have been turned against Ra’s by whoever harbored him.

It was terribly unlikely, and exactly the sort of torment that Ra’s more personal enemies would want to inflict on him.

Then, before he had decided whether to send the order to continue watching, or to retrieve the target, he was sent an update. His agent had mailed a tape labeled ‘Unusual Behavior’ almost immediately after reporting in.

It was the boy, a teenager, using his soulmate’s name, dancing around London-- where he had been found, and who did Ra’s know who hated him, who _also_ knew that was one of the first places he had seriously looked for his soulmate all those centuries ago?-- dancing and singing like an idiot about not needing or wanting anyone, especially a soulmate. In the video, passersby gave him a wide, confused berth while the boy grinned for every harsh word he sang, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

Ra’s did not destroy the tape, leaving it to Ubu to sequester away until he knew who to punish for such a sick joke. He sent the order to retrieve the boy.

He was going to get answers from someone, and it may as well be the fake.

Of course, by the time his agent received the order, they had already lost track of the boy, and it was four months before any trace of him was found again.

* * *

It took five years to finally corner the boy with Ra’s soulmate’s name. Five years of near misses, of the boy either vanishing to another continent as soon as someone spied him, or of the boy actually managing to escape capture when a Shadow confronted him. The skill he displayed in such meetings were also often recorded, and Ra’s couldn’t help but be impressed by the young man.

The more of this skill he saw, the more Ra’s was convinced that it would benefit the League to add the boy to its ranks-- whether he was actually his soulmate or not. He had courted others with the same name into joining him before their marks appeared and he had never regretted it. 

Also, the boy’s hands were still bare after all this time. There was still that slight chance.

But more importantly, after five years of chasing, Ra’s was fairly certain now that there could be no plot involved with the boy other than perhaps hiding his existence for the first two decades of his life. If Ra’s name had been tattooed on the boy’s hand, then it would have made sense to keep them apart, so Ra’s would never be entirely certain. But as the boy’s mark was still missing, five years was far too long for him to be flaunted before Ra’s like this.

So he made the boy’s capture a priority. If he was not Ra’s soulmate, he would still make an excellent assassin, and if he was… well. Better to get a hold of him as soon as possible in either case.

Despite Ra’s decision being passed down to all his Shadows, it still took _five years_ to finally corner the boy with a sizable force. Fifty of his best and most loyal assassins, not including Ra’s himself and his personal entourage. The only drawback was that the boy had been found-- and very, very carefully monitored while everything was moved into position-- in Gotham.

The home of his once most prized student, and now his most disappointing failure.

Hopefully, Ra’s would be able to catch his target quickly, and avoid any unnecessary confrontations.

The boy was tailed as he made his way through the theatre district, singing for money as he seemed to do in every city he was found in. From there, his assassins would approach and carefully herd him to the park where Ra’s and his personal servants lay in wait. 

It was a simple plan formed around extensive experience of the boy running whenever someone tried to grab him. In every previous encounter, he managed to dodge and weave away from his followers until he was lost in a crowd or a transit station, and once he was out of sight his trail just ended. His Shadows never found him until a new agent spotted him somewhere else in the world, often weeks or months later.

This time would be different though. This time there were fifteen teams that would work in tandem to chase him away from anywhere he might duck out of sight, and leaving only one avenue open for him to run down. There, Ra’s would take charge of the boy himself.

Everything seemed to go smoothly at first. On the radio, his assassins reported the boy’s reaction to spotting one of them, and all his movements, and everything went exactly as planned… until the boy decided to scale a wall. In full view of a quickly panicking street full of civilians, whom the assassins now needed to avoid drawing any attention from as they tried to catch up.

All of a sudden, half the teams were in the wrong position to keep the boy moving down the street, out of the district and into the park, and _he_ was running along the rooftops in nearly the opposite direction.

Ra’s sent out the order to circle him as fast as possible, prevent him from getting back to the ground again, and joined the race. If the boy wished for this to happen on top of a skyrise, then Ra’s would indulge him. It would be out of sight and much easier to hide the capture than on the street anyway.

Or, at least it was supposed to be, but that quickly changed as well.

By the time Ra’s caught up, there was no hiding his presence in the city. Somehow the boy had hacked into all the buildings and infrastructure around them, and lights were flashing on and off in crazy patterns while some pop song blared out from speakers all around them. The boy himself was rolling and leaping around the rooftop, laughing like a maniac while Ra’s Shadows tried desperately to grab him.

As he watched, one soon to be punished master assassin grew tired of games and took out his sword to slash at the boy’s feet. In a single breath, the boy was on the assassin’s head, sword in hand, and in the next breath, he was twirling away from the group-- still with the sword-- and singing along with the annoyingly loud music. 

The next twenty minutes was an up close, loud, and wildly more eccentric demonstration of all the quick clips of video that had been sent back to Ra’s over the last few years. The boy practically danced among the assassins on the roof, and, after a brief nod from Ra’s, easily deflected and avoided much more vicious blows and weapons than had been used against him previously. Laughing and singing in turn the entire time.

“Enough,” Ra’s said finally, when he was sure the music had drilled into his head long enough to leave a scar.

At his word, his assassins all pulled back, leaving the boy breathlessly giggling in the center of a wide circle. Ra’s stepped into it and the boy turned to him with a bright grin, his eyes flashing in the strobing light.

“Ooh! Great, so are you the boss then?” he asked eagerly. He swung the sword in a careless spin, clearly familiar with the blade, but uncaring of its use.

“I am.” Ra’s cocked his head to the side when he noted the boy’s complete lack of recognition. More evidence that he was likely not being used in some plot against him, but what that could mean for what he truly was, it was too early to decide.

“Wonderful!” The boy swung the sword up to rest on his shoulder and faced Ra’s fully. “This has been fun and all, but seriously. Fuck off.”

Ra’s’ servants and assassins all shifted angrily around them at the complete disrespect given to him. His eyes narrowed, taking in the boy more carefully. He was thin, poorly dressed, homeless as far as years of observation could tell, ill-mannered, and possibly mad. He also stood like one who would never back down, eyes almost glowing from the reflection of flashing lights with fierce determination, and he had just spent the last half hour-- the last five years, really-- making fools out of his best trained assassins.

“If you had simply allowed yourself to be brought to me sooner, this could have been avoided.”

“Don’t care!” the boy said, still grinning. “You really need to take a hint, you know?”

“Do I?” Ra’s tilted his head to the side. “Are you certain it is not you who should be listening to hints?”

“I! Don’t! Care!” the boy yelled now, and his grin turned to a sneer. “Seriously, I don’t give a shit what you want, I’m not interested. Just go the fuck away already.”

“You… truly have no idea who I am.” Ra’s’ head tilted the other way, watching those shining, green eyes narrow with annoyance. But still no knowledge, still no understanding. Whatever training the boy had been given, it came with no instruction.

“Nope! And I really, really don’t care.” The boy was calmer now, but puzzled by Ra’s’ own confusion. “I just want to be left alone.”

Ra’s closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly shed his elegant, green jacket to reveal a sleeveless leather tunic, similar to what his assassins wore during training. Then he opened his eyes, focused on the opponent across from him, and lunged.

The boy leapt to the side with a graceful twirl that took him well out of Ra’s reach, except he had not expected Ra’s to leap with him. The boy had a moment to stare at him wide eyed before Ra’s hand closed on his arm-- almost. At the last second, the boy simply dropped backward to the ground, and Ra’s’s reach overextended directly over him. Then he had a moment to look down at the boy, now smirking, right before he kicked Ra’s knee out-- almost.

Ra’s, just as the boy, was able to avoid the blow by jumping clear, and that gave the boy time to roll away and get back to his feet with a spin and slash of his stolen sword to keep Ra’s from grabbing him from behind.

They traded near blows in this way, each dodging and whirling around the other in a dangerous, flowing dance. The boy’s style was wild, disjointed, impossible to predict. He followed no pattern, and could just as easily slip into an attack as he could drop to the ground to avoid a blow. He aimed for anything vulnerable and had such precise control of his blade it moved more like one of his own limbs than a weapon separate from him. Ra’s couldn’t place such an improvised, yet perfectly polished style, had never encountered anything quite like it.

Only one thing stood out as a possible weak point. While the boy held greater power in the weapon he used to keep Ra’s just out of arm’s reach, he never used it as a deadly force to drive Ra’s off. He was never direct. More often than not, he either avoided contact, or redirected Ra’s away from himself.

He did not meet strength head on, but nimbly moved around it until it turned to his advantage rather than his opponent’s. Which meant there was one thing Ra’s could do which the boy would not be prepared for.

They spun and stepped around each other a few more close blows, then, when the boy swung wide, intending to make him step back to avoid the cut, Ra’s instead stepped forward and grabbed the blade in his fist.

The boy’s eyes widened in shock as Ra’s quickly yanked him closer, planning to grab him by the arm, by his hair, his jacket, anything, before he could regain his balance. But even as he reached forward, the boy’s weight shifted.

Instead of letting go of the sword to jump back, or pulling back in an effort to keep it and his balance both, the boy jumped, twisted in the air, and balanced on the sword’s handle like a bar. All his weight was now on the sword Ra’s held by the blade, and he grit his teeth in the scant seconds it took to slice his fingers, quickly shifting his hand and arm so the flat of the blade pressed against his flesh instead of the edge.

But that gave the boy the advantage, for it changed the angle of his arm, his stance, made it impossible to reach up in time as the boy landed on his shoulders and kicked off. Ra’s rolled forward to the ground and threw the sword away with a snarl, hand trailing blood across the cement. He spun as he got to his feet and turned to see the boy in much the same position, but unscathed and eyes darting around the circle of assassins, searching for a way out.

Ra’s breathed heavily and stood slowly. He would need to restrict the boy completely in order to win it seemed. He may not have strength superior to Ra’s, but it was still strength enough to move his own body with very little effort.

He stalked slowly around the circle, the boy matching him step for step, watching for an opening. If he wanted to kill the boy this would be a simple matter, but the more he saw of him, the more Ra’s wanted to keep him, make him more loyal than even his most devoted followers, and he could only do that if he did not break the boy in the capture. The boy had not seriously tried to kill, or even injure, Ra’s or his people, so Ra’s would have to abide by the same rule to earn his trust.

For now anyway.

It should not be too difficult to accomplish, as the boy was now far more dedicated to escape than to fighting him. His eyes, so bright and clear up close, even in the dark, were darting over the waiting Shadows as he and Ra’s circled each other. Ra’s now only peripherally had the boy’s attention, and just needed to wait for his focus to slip for longer than a second or two.

There--! The boy had his full attention pointed at what he clearly found to be a weak point in the circle, and shifted his weight toward it, prepared to run. The loud music suddenly cut out, and the flashing lights all fell dark, leaving the roof and surrounding area in total darkness. 

Ra’s lunged for the boy without seeing him, but in the faint light of the stars and street lights reflecting from blocks away, he saw the boy was not actually running for what he had been focused on. Instead, he flipped up and backward, landing directly on a completely unsuspecting assassin that had been behind him, knocking the man to the ground.

Ra’s clenched his jaw and sprinted for the boy before he could do more than flip again and turn to run for the edge of the roof. He just barely grabbed the boy’s soft, trailing jacket and jerked him back. When the boy turned the move into another spin that broke Ra’s’s hold on the cloth, Ra’s was expecting it.

He stepped right into where the boy aimed to land, and took hold of a stray wrist in a punishing grip. When the boy tried to turn the move against him in another spin and fall, Ra’s added more weight to it, falling as well so that he wrapped the boy’s arms around himself and pinned them by holding each wrist in a tight fist. Then he made sure that he would land first, so he could reach his legs up and down, trapping every limb the boy tried to flail with.

Except he didn’t try.

The moment Ra’s knew he had the boy trapped, weighed down by superior strength and unable to even wriggle, the boy went limp. Then, slowly, he started laughing.

“You will yield,” Ra’s said firmly. The laughter only grew louder. Ra’s squeezed his hands around thin wrists and turned his head away to pull a needle out of a secret pocket on the shoulder of his tunic with his teeth.

“Haha-- Don’t-- ha!-- Don’t have much choice, do I?” The boy shook with laughter, practically vibrating against Ra’s’ chest with wild mirth. “But sure! I’m not even mad anymore-- this was the most fun I’ve had in forever! Hahaha!”

Ra’s hummed thoughtfully, and stuck the needle in his neck.

“Ow! What the--” the boy twisted his head as far away as he could, pulling the needle out, but its work was already done. “Did you just stab me with a bloody needle? Rude!”

Ra’s turned his head and spat the needle away. The movement brought his ear and throat in contact with the back of the boy’s neck and the touch sent a shock through his whole body. The boy above him likewise shuddered before falling slack upon his chest.

“Oooh! Oh, ow… poison needle,” the boy slurred and tugged at his limbs weakly. “Even… more… rude….”

Ra’s waited as the boy slowly went limp, and allowed his head to fall back on his shoulder. Their skin touched again, and Ra’s shuddered when he realized that, yes, this was the only skin he could feel. The boy had avoided all contact prior to this, and his arms were covered with the sleeves of his ragged jacket. As the body on top of him became even more limp, he carefully tested the drug’s effect by letting go of the boy’s wrists to lay his palms atop bare hands instead.

That same shivery feeling, that shock, that _warmth_ came from this careful brush of skin as well.

“Master?” Ubu knelt beside them, looking concerned. Ra’s knew how quickly the drug took effect. He would never normally lay waiting for it to kick in, especially not in such a filthy place. 

He carefully sat up, pulling the boy with him and gently lowering him back down, turning him over so he could see the back of his neck. 

“Give me light,” he ordered curtly. Ubu brought out a flashlight and directed it down at the boy.

Ra’s ignored his people watching him curiously, and brushed the boy’s hair up and off his neck. There, in the same place Ra’s’s own miraculous soulmark appeared, was a name. He had expected it to be his name-- or rather, he had expected it to be his title. Ra’s al Ghul. The Demon’s Head. What he had called himself for centuries.

But no. The name the boy bore was his old name, the one he was given by his parents. The one he gave up when he was no longer a man.

This boy was actually his soulmate. This boy was _his_ Harry James Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot even say how thrilled I am by the response to this fic! So many people willing to climb into this burning dumpster with me, just, ahhh! Thank you! It really makes me think that maybe I'm not a complete trash raccoon!
> 
> Let's hope no one regrets this terrible, terrible decision, okay?

Ra’s himself carried Harry down to the street and the waiting car. He kept the boy in his lap for the ride while the majority of his forces went out to misdirect any attention that may have been drawn by the very loud and blinding confrontation.

Those he had brought with him were all those who knew what had been at stake, those who had all been sent to search for his soulmate before. So when Ra’s first stood with the boy lifted up in his arms, they all knew without him having to say a word. He could tell his followers wished to congratulate him far more than the simple genuflections they offered as he walked away. He would allow them a celebration for the momentous occasion once they returned home.

But later. First he had to secure his soulmate somewhere safe, and he needed to be sure Harry would wake from the drug with no ill effects before he would risk taking him on a plane.

Not that there was any high chance of side effects, such things were in fact exceedingly rare from the drugs Ra’s used. But with Harry, that infinitesimal possibility felt too great a threat to allow when he could simply be patient.

He also wished to inspect his soulmate for damage as soon as possible. He had been knocked around some, and lived on the streets for several years after all. Any injuries or sickness were better addressed sooner rather than later.

Yet once Harry had been laid out on the bed of his hotel suite and stripped down to his underwear, neither Ra’s nor Ubu could find a single scratch from the night’s events, nor any sign of malnourishment, nor anything really. There was some minimal bruising on his arms, legs, and back-- from deflecting blows and rolling out of falls-- but they were skin deep and no more. It was as if Ra’s and his assassins never even managed to touch him.

What there was, however, were four old scars, very old, faded until they were discoverable only by running his fingertips along the smooth skin until they caught on raised flesh, the texture slightly different from the surrounding.

A large puncture wound on his left arm, as if a spear had impaled the limb and pulled out clean. A long, straight cut on his right arm, from a dagger or short sword, pulled along the vein from wrist to elbow. A short, jagged tear on his forehead, shaped like a stylized lightning bolt, and too perfectly shaped to not have been deliberately cut.

But the worst of them was the scar on Harry’s right hand. At first Ra’s assumed the many lines, crisscrossed all over the back of his soulmate’s hand, came from a bad scrape-- that his hand had once dragged across gravel or glass or stone, ripping the skin and causing it to heal in a random web of scars. Closer inspection revealed something far more revolting.

Words had been carved into Harry’s hand, meticulously perfect in their placement, each letter curled delicately as if his flesh had been no more than parchment to write a quick note on. 

_ I must not tell lies. _

Ra’s was so enraged by the sight of them, he stood frozen over the bed, Harry’s scarred hand clasped between his own as he envisioned a thousand different tortures he would happily inflict on whoever was responsible. None of his servants dared call his attention away as he stood there in boiling silence, he did not move until Harry began to shiver on the bed, his skin dimpling with goosebumps in the hotel’s cool conditioned air. Then he was able to take a deep breath and step back, letting Harry’s hand fall down as he turned to Ubu.

“Bathe him,” he said curtly, “and dress him appropriately.”

His most faithful servant bowed his head before gently lifting Harry from the bed. Ra’s watched them disappear into the en suite while another of his servants left to procure clothing worthy of the soulmate of the Demon’s Head. 

When the sound of pouring water came through the closed door, Ra’s turned and walked out of the bedroom to the main sitting room. There, he allowed another servant to finally clean and dress his sliced fingers.

He felt strangely numb, almost cold, now that he had a moment to sit and think away from the blazing heat that was contact with his soulmate. He truly hadn’t believed that the boy he was chasing would prove to be  _ his _ Harry Potter. He had met so many of them over the years that, just as his once favored pupil said, he had grown used to the disappointment. 

But it finally happened. He finally found the one bound to him by the Lazarus Pit’s miraculous waters.

It was astonishing that he hadn’t even considered his soulmate’s mark would mirror the placement of his own. The back of the neck was simply not where such a precious thing was meant to appear, and Harry--  _ his _ Harry-- clearly had no idea he even bore the mark. Ra’s himself might not have known for years had the one with him when he first emerged from the pit not remarked on it.

He wondered if it meant that somehow Harry’s mark had been moved due to his connection to Ra’s or… if he would one day bear another mark on his hand. Another name… just as Ra’s once had.

The thought was extremely displeasing.

As was the thought that came after it, which was that somehow the scarring on Harry’s hand had forced the mark to move.

It was abhorrent to scar a person’s hands before their soulmark appeared, as it could cause the mark to be either so faded as to be barely visible, or to not appear at all, leaving the person at the mercy of being found by their match and knowing only by touch and not name that they were one. It was very lucky Ra’s managed to touch Harry’s skin when he did, and that his mark seemed whole and perfect even if it was in the wrong place. A perfect match to him, yes, but disturbing nonetheless.

His thoughts turned then to the first sight he had of his soulmate, secretly recorded five years ago and singing madly in public about not needing anyone, friend or family… or soulmate. He wondered if the words carved into Harry’s skin had led to that farce. It had filled him with rage when he first saw the boy singing such nonsense, believing it was a deliberate jab against himself, but now he saw it was never about him.

Whoever had damaged Harry’s hand would absolutely need to be punished.

His thoughts were saved from turning any darker when one of his servants came and knelt beside him. Harry was clean and waiting for him. He stood and went back to the bedroom.

His servants had done the best they could with the unexpected need to dress someone of much higher station than had been planned for. A simple black recruit’s outfit had been donated from one of their number and very quickly added to with edges of gold and green trim, and some enterprising soul must have gained access to an embroidery machine, for there were precise, geometric patterns in green stitching along every seam, and gold stitched swirls across the breast. 

It was a simple yet extraordinary upgrade in the very limited time they had. It must have been started immediately after Ra's first picked Harry up off the rooftop. He would be sure to reward whoever had managed such quick elegance.

Ra’s brushed the backs of his knuckles gently across his soulmate’s cheek as he admired the much cleaner, much better dressed figure than had appeared in loose, dirty jeans and cotton hood. Then he went to the bathroom to clean the remaining traces of the night’s excursion from his own body. 

Somehow, the heat of the bath paled in comparison to the heat of Harry’s skin, no matter how high he turned the faucet.

When he emerged from the bathroom, flushed and enveloped by the steam that had built up, he still felt like shivering. It wasn’t until he joined Harry on the bed, and arranged the young man’s head to rest on his lap, where Ra’s could finally stroke his fingers over soft hair, that he felt warm again. 

It always felt different to touch one’s soulmate than to touch any other, but he was sure that he had never felt such loss of heat with his first, his Sora. It must be an effect of the Lazarus Pit; somehow his connection to this soulmate was stronger. Simply having a hand on Harry again was enough to calm a tension that had been building since he first let go of the young man’s hand.

This might take some getting used to.

* * *

Ra’s had fallen into an almost meditative state as his hand stroked along his soulmate’s hair, cheek, and throat. Each brush of skin sent a flash of heat racing through his whole body. Harry remained unconscious, but the constant touch seemed to have an equally calming effect on him, as his heart rate and breathing fell into a slow, steady rhythm not at all like what it would be if he was coming off the drug. Ra’s was fairly certain that he had actually worked through most of the drug’s effects only to fall into a true sleep.

So, naturally, it was during this incredibly peaceful period that his personal failure chose to interrupt.

Dull crashes and thumps on the walls drew Ra’s out of his daze, and it was a wonder he had slipped into such a thing in a mere hotel, in a city controlled by an enemy. He sent the door a dark look even as he petted Harry, who stirred at the sound of a particularly loud crash. It seemed he was going to have to make an appearance.

Ra’s sighed and lifted Harry off his lap, carefully shifting him over to lay on a pillow instead.

“Ubu,” he said, and the man turned from where he was guarding the door. “Bring me the chain.”

Ra’s kept carding fingers through his soulmate’s hair while he waited for his servant to bring over the restraint he’d planned to use when Harry was just a target he wanted to capture and take back at any cost. It shouldn’t be necessary now, but… Harry was waking, might wake fully while Ra’s was dealing with the annoyance in the next room, and he would likely try to run without Ra’s there to stop him. 

He had Ubu attach the cuffs to his soulmate’s ankles instead of his wrists though. Hopefully that would be enough of a sign that he wanted only to prevent running, not keep such a beloved person in chains. It should only be for long enough to let them talk. 

Then, after brushing a quick kiss over Harry’s sleeping forehead, he strode from the bedroom to confront the one tossing his assassins into walls.

“Ah, Detective,” he said loudly. “Never subtle, are you?”

“I could say the same for you, Ra’s,” Bruce snarled as he kicked another assassin through a table. “That light show you put on downtown really messed up the power grid. The entire area is still blacked out.”

The remaining assassins backed off at a wave of their master’s hand, and Bruce, the Batman, turned to face him in his full, black kevlar glory. He would have made a better assassin really.

“Is that so?” Ra’s was a little surprised. He had thought Harry hacked into something to play with the lighting, not that he had broken anything. He still wasn’t certain how his soulmate had done it considering he had no electronic devices on him when he was stripped. “Well, I must apologize on behalf of the one responsible.”

“So the mayhem the blackout caused wasn’t part of your plan then?” Bruce growled.

“Please, Detective,” Ra’s shook his head. “What purpose does it serve me?”

“I don’t know, Ra’s. You tell me.” Bruce looked very menacing indeed in his ridiculous costume, but Ra’s knew the man was too held back by petty morals to ever be as deadly as he appeared. “Why are you making trouble in my city?”

Ra’s walked around the room, regarding his felled people, the broken furniture, the hole in one wall. It was truly a shame that Bruce didn’t have the metal to follow through on his convictions. His assassins regrouped and moved with him as he took a seat in one of the few undisturbed armchairs.

“Let me ask you, Detective,” he said slowly. “Have you received your soulmark yet?”

“That’s none of your business, Ra’s,” Bruce growled. His gloved fists clenched tighter, a tell the man had never rid himself of.

“In that case, Detective, my current affairs are also none of your business.”

Bruce didn’t respond for a minute, but not out of offense, no. His brilliant mind was working through the answer until--

“You found them,” he said. “Your soulmate was here. In Gotham.”

“Yes.” Ra’s offered no more than that, because it really wasn’t anyone else’s business, particularly not this man’s.

Bruce regarded him in silence for a long drawn out minute while Ra’s waited for him to come to the only appropriate decision.

“You carried an unconscious person through the hotel lobby,” he said. “Are you kidnapping them?”

Ra’s scoffed. “Please, Detective. My soulmate had no idea why I was chasing them. It was necessary to take certain precautions before they were hurt.”

“And once you’ve explained everything?” Bruce challenged. “You think they’ll just forgive you for chasing them, drugging them, and kidnapping them away from their home?”

“Gotham is not their home,” Ra’s said firmly. “My soulmate is a bit of a drifter, and it is repugnant of you to suggest that my soulmate would ever turn from me. One who is a perfect match to me would never have the… moral objections to my role in the world that you do.”

Bruce’s mouth curled in distaste, the only exposed piece of his face and somehow all the more expressive for it.

“Then take your soulmate, and get the hell out of my city!” he snarled.

“I shall,” Ra’s said pleasantly. “Once my soulmate has woken.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drugged them into unconsciousness.”

“Actually, they are sleeping now.”

“Then  _ wake _ them, and be on your way.”

“It has been a long night,” Ra’s said with a suggestive smirk. “They need their rest.”

Bruce blew out an annoyed breath and, just as Ra’s predicted, turned away with a dramatic flare of his cape and stalked off to the balcony.

“You have until morning then,” he said as he raised an arm to the sky. “Be on a plane tomorrow, or I will  _ make _ you leave.”

“Always a pleasure to see you, Detective.”

Batman shot out a grappling hook without another word, and was gone in the blink of an eye. He really would have been such a marvelous assassin.

* * *

Ubu lay prostrated on the floor when Ra’s came back to the bedroom. One glance at the empty bed was answer enough for why his best servant could not meet his eyes.

“What happened,” he demanded quietly.

“I am sorry, Master,” Ubu spoke into the carpet. “He woke, and then he disappeared-- I could do nothing!”

“I trusted you!” Ra’s snarled and strode forward to drag the man up by his collar. “And you dare try to excuse yourself with nonsense!”

“It is true, Master!” Ubu’s eyes were wide and terrified when he was on his feet. “When he woke he looked around the room in a daze. I told him you would return soon, and then he found the shackles on his ankles, he looked at me with some anger, and then he simply vanished! I swear to you-- he never got up, never spoke, simply vanished into the air!”

Ra’s frowned and turned to look at the bed where his soulmate had lain only minutes ago. He dropped Ubu and stalked over to pick up the simple cuffs and chain he had placed on Harry. They were left behind and still locked yet completely unbroken, as if the limbs they held had truly vanished without the need for a key. Impossible.

“Get out,” he said stiffly. “I will deal with your punishment once he is returned to my side.”

Ubu left quickly, walking backward with a bow until the door was closed between them. Ra’s glared down at the empty bed, the empty shackles, and grit his teeth. How could everything go so right for the first time in centuries, only to go all wrong again on the same night?

He couldn’t spend any more time on regrets however. Ra’s needed to discover exactly how his soulmate had managed to vanish so thoroughly, and… whether it had been under his own power, or someone else’s.

Much as it galled him, he needed to ask for help.

Ra’s sneered as he stalked out of the room to make what would surely be the most annoying phone call of his long life.

* * *

The rooms had been cleaned and furniture returned to their places, and his assassins were all hidden around the building and outside the windows and balcony. What was broken had been taken out of his sight and disposed of, leaving the suite less opulent, but more open; not the worst trade off. The damages would be billed to Bruce Wayne. 

Ra’s was trying to relax with a glass of wine as he waited, but the cold had set in again, and his visible servants were all tense despite being trained well enough to not fidget or draw attention. The sound of his guest loudly complaining as he was led down the hall to his suite only made his mood, and the gloom around him, darken further.

“Ugh! I do hope you realize what a pain it was to drop my experiment and rush here at  _ your  _ leisure!” the man griped as he walked through the doors. “You had better not go back on your word after I do this little favor for you.”

“I am a man of my word,” Ra’s said coldly. “You will have one vial of the waters of the Lazarus Pit when, and  _ only _ when, you have accomplished my task.”

“Hmph,” Felix Faust, one of the oldest, and most obnoxious, sorcerers in the world, crossed his arms and pouted like a child. “Honestly, an entire Pit would be a better reward for my time, the resources I wasted teleporting here instantly, the  _ very delicate experiment _ I was in the middle of when you called! One vial hardly amounts to all that.”

“Yet you already determined it was worth the loss in exchange for a single vial, else you would not be here,” Ra’s reminded him as he stood, glaring the man into silence. Faust blew out an annoyed breath and put his hands on his hips. “This way.” Ra’s turned and led the man out of the room while his servants kept to the walls.

Once in the bedroom, Ra’s waved toward the bed and stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched the sorcerer shuffle and whine his way around the room.

“Hmm, you kept your prisoner in your own bed?” the man snarked as he pulled thread and bones and a bag of salt out of his robe. “Very kinky.”

Ra’s refused to encourage his derisive banter. Thankfully, his silence was clue enough for Faust to get to work without much more than quiet grumbling. Ra’s watched as the man drew lines with salt and placed small trinkets and baubles at various intersections, until finally he took a place at the center of the mess and sat down.

“Now, let’s see just how your little pet slipped their leash, shall we?”

Ra’s clenched his jaw but chose again to ignore the pest; the man had already fallen into a quiet chant and power was collecting around the crude circle anyway. This would be over with soon.

Light bloomed along the lines of salt, zipping around until suddenly, with a flash, the light leapt up and coalesced into a figure upon the bed. Ra’s’ eyes narrowed as he watched a glowing shadow of his soulmate shift restlessly before suddenly sitting up. He looked around, confused it seemed, before focusing on Ra’s-- no, on something behind Ra’s, where the door was. Where Ubu would have been standing when he woke.

The young man made no expression, and never opened his mouth to speak, just as Ubu had said. Then, after a moment, he glanced down at his feet and slowly picked up the chain binding his ankles together. His face when he looked back toward Ra’s, toward where Ubu would have been, was much colder, eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth twisted with disgust. 

Ra’s felt… somewhat uncomfortable as he watched the glowing shadow of his soulmate glare toward him as he slowly let the chain fall out of his hand. The moment it touched the bed, the figure vanished, but not because the spell was over, no-- the glowing manacles were still floating as though holding something for a heartbeat, then they too fell, landing on the bed exactly where Ra’s had seen and picked them up earlier. 

Then it too vanished, this time because Faust had ended the spell.

“Well, well!” The man brushed his dark robes as he stood. “How fascinating!”

“Is it?” Ra’s lowered his arms and tried not to glower. “And are you going to share what you have learned?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Faust waved a careless hand at him. “My apologies. I forgot you could only see the physical replay of your pet’s escape.”

“I grow weary of your flippancy,” Ra’s growled. “Have you anything useful to say or not?”

“Oh, don’t get your overweening, green-soaked brain in a tizzy!” Faust grinned at him as he turned back to bed and plucked up the manacles. “I’ve learned plenty of useful information-- such as the fact that  _ you _ don’t even know who you were holding captive!”

Ra’s didn’t even bother to stop himself from snarling. “Be careful what you say, sorcerer! My patience has already been tested this night, and you are quickly using up what little remains.”

“Oh?” Faust’s grin grew wider as he held up the manacles and shook them. “Are you telling me you  _ did _ know that you locked up a powerful magic user with these-- clearly unmagical and utterly useless-- chains?”

That pulled the rage building behind Ra’s eyes up short, and he managed to relax his body and exhale slowly. “Explain.”

Faust smirked at him and tossed the manacles over his shoulder back to the bed. “Your captive used one of the most sophisticated and powerful personal teleportation spells I’ve ever seen. He needed no incantations, no preparation, no concoctions, and he managed to leave with his clothes-- but left the little chain you tied him up with.”

Ra’s’s eyes narrowed as he watched Faust practically gush over his soulmate’s… spell. “You are certain it was his own power that moved him then, not another’s?”

“Positive.” Faust nodded and glanced back at the bed, hand stroking his chin speculatively. “The magic clearly came from him, though honestly, I’ve never seen a teleportation spell that tightly controlled before-- if I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t have thought someone so young  _ could  _ do something that practiced.”

This was good information to have, Ra’s told himself. If his soulmate was of magical descent, then it might explain why he had appeared out of nowhere-- exiles and immigrants from magical enclaves often had to start their lives from scratch in the wider world, but magic spells often made housing and identity much easier to acquire. It was odd that he had been living as a homeless drifter though… if he had as much power as Faust seemed to think, then shouldn’t he have already established himself somewhere?

“There is also this,” Faust said as he walked over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. 

Ra’s was by his side in an instant, hand clenched on his shoulder in warning. The sorcerer glanced at him, then rolled his eyes and huffed. 

“Oh for--  _ may _ I, please?” he said with a wave at the drawer’s contents. “You do want to catch your new pet again, don’t you?”

Ra’s sneered at him, but let his shoulder go. 

“Desist with your impertinence,” he said. “So far as it concerns you, the boy is my target and nothing more.”

_ “Riight,” _ Faust drawled as he rummaged through the items in the drawer before pulling out a slim, cloth wallet-- Harry’s. “A very  _ attractive  _ target, chained in your bed, oh--” he turned with the wallet and flapped it annoyingly in Ra’s face, “and he was dressed up quite nice for you too, wasn’t he? Not really  _ my _ taste-- I prefer more skin showing-- but it was certainly form-fitting!”

“You are very close to losing all good-will I had towards you when I offered this deal.” Ra’s kept his hands fisted at his sides. He knew not to trust that the sorcerer was really as vulnerable as he appeared, no matter how much he longed to strangle the man to silence.

Faust sighed. “You really need to learn how to have a little fun, Ra’s. Life’s too short to keep that stick up your ass.”

“For one such as I, life is hardly what any would call _short,”_ Ra’s bit out. Even Faust was not normally this infuriating. He was trying to bait him. But why? 

“What do you want with that?” Ra's asked with a glance at the wallet still held carelessly in Faust’s hand.

The sorcerer pursed his lips, looking displeased, and Ra’s was right-- the man was trying to distract him from something. Faust shrugged and walked back to flop down at the center of his messy circle.

“This little thing is coated in quite a bit of your  _ pet’s  _ magic,” he said. “The place he vanished and that little chain of your’s are not. So if you want me to track where he went, I’ll need to use this as a focus instead.”

Faust dropped the wallet on the ground before where he sat and took a moment to rearrange his salt and trinkets around it. Ra’s eyed the movement, but could discern no logical pattern now anymore than he could before.

“Exactly what spell could be on such a tiny item that is stronger than ‘the most sophisticated teleportation spell’ you have ever seen?” Ra’s asked.

“It was sophisticated because of how tightly the spell was contained. Left very little magical residue to work with.” Faust gave him an annoyed look, but shrugged. “As for this, I’ve no idea,” he said. “Let’s find out.”

Without waiting for a response, the sorcerer grabbed the wallet back off the ground and held it up. He muttered arcane phrases and poked at the innocuous object, until a loud bang and a spill of smoke poured out around his hands. The door to the bedroom opened quiet but quick, and Ra’s raised a hand to stop three of his assassins from rushing in.

“Oh for-! Damn, stupid--” Faust shouted between coughs as he waved wildly at the smoke. He hacked one final time as the smoke dispersed, then held the wallet out over to the side. From the seemingly empty pockets, dozens and dozens of paper bills and coins fell out until a sizable pile of money was littered all over the floor by Faust’s knee. 

The sorcerer shook the wallet to be sure everything was out, then tossed it back to its spot on the floor before him.

“My, my,” he said with a laugh. “Quite the nest egg he had, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Ra’s agreed with a frown. He was even more confused now. If his soulmate had such funds available to him, why was he always singing for money on the street? Why was he always seen sleeping on park benches and under bridges like a vagrant?

At his feet, Faust was fiddling with the money, and Ra’s was about to stop him from trying to steal any of his soulmate’s property, when the sorcerer exclaimed and began rummaging more excitedly through the pile, separating everything out into two piles, one much larger than the other.

“What are you doing, Faust?”

“This,” the sorcerer muttered as he continued picking up and placing bills down around him, “and this, no, not that one, but this, this--”

“Faust!”

The sorcerer peered over his shoulder at him with a sneer. “Do you mind?” he said churlishly. “I am busy!”

“You will tell me what it is you are doing, or I will have to end our bargain here,” Ra’s threatened. “Without your reward of course.”

“Oh for--” Faust threw his hands up and returned his dark glare to his strange task. “Don’t you get it?  _ This  _ is part of your pet’s magic!”

“The money?” Ra’s said slowly.

“Pfft! The money,” Faust said mockingly. “Yes! The scads of money hidden in the smallest, yet most stable folded space pocket I’ve ever seen-- which is also plenty enough to be impressed by I might add!”

Ra’s raised an eyebrow at the sorcerer’s ramblings. Much as he appreciated any praise that might be given to his soulmate, he disliked the almost manic voice that was giving it. “Your point?”

“My point!” Faust threw his hands up again. “My  _ point _ is that it’s not real!”

“Neither is your word apparently,” Ra’s said with ill concealed annoyance. “You have worn out the last stray tatters of my patience, and you have yet to accomplish the one task I set for you--”

_ “Agh!” _ Faust yelled and stood up. “See, this is why I don’t like mixing with you so-called” he held his fingers up and bent them up and down, “ _ super-villain _ types. No appreciation for the craft!”

“You are supposed to be tracking down my target, and yet you are sitting here, spouting nonsense and  _ wasting _ my time!”

“I  _ am _ setting up a tracking spell, you ignorant ass!” Faust crossed his arms and gave him a quizzical look. “I know you don’t have as much understanding of the mystic arts as one born to the power, but seriously, Ra’s. It’s like you’re not paying attention at all!”

Ra’s clenched his jaw and glanced at Faust’s silly circle again, trying to pick out the pattern, the meaning behind it. The piles of money Faust had separated out were indeed positioned within the circle, marked with more salt he hadn’t noticed the sorcerer placed, and held down with shards of bone and glass. He sneered at the mess and met Faust’s eyes again.

“You know…,” Faust said through a nasty little smirk, “it’s almost like this has you truly riled up! It makes me wonder… if you  _ didn’t _ already know about your ‘target’s’ magical inclination, then  _ why  _ are you so interested in him?”

“That is none of your affair, Faust.” Ra’s’ face fell flat, unwilling to admit that he had allowed this overblown fool to learn more than he should. 

Faust’s mouth twisted into an even nastier grin. “Well maybe it should be.” He tilted his head and looked down at the piles of money again. “Do you know what your little pet did with all this?”

Ra’s didn’t respond. Faust didn’t seem to care.

“All these bills and coins, bar a very, very few,” he said as he bent over and plucked a dollar up to hold before him, “are magical constructs. Imitations, illusionary copies! But--!” he held the bill over his other hand and conjured a flame in his open palm. “While most spells which create a duplicate will vanish in a puff of smoke when damaged even slightly, these,” he lowered the bill into the flame, letting it catch and crinkle as the fire burned it to ash. Faust grinned.  _ “These _ are strengthened to keep their form until they are completely destroyed.”

Ra’s watched the ash fall to the floor while Faust brushed his hands off. Only after all the ash had fallen did it slowly fade away, disappearing before his eyes. This… was very unexpected.

“So I realize that you are not the expert in the mystic arts that I am,” Faust said condescendingly. “But I’m sure even you can imagine how incredible it is that someone would pour enough power into making fake money that  _ stays, _ when any magical worth their salt wouldn’t bother caring if this sort of thing actually stuck around once used. Incredible that anyone would  _ have _ the power to waste it like this.”

Faust looked down at the money arranged around his circle, then back at Ra’s standing stiff and silent. 

“So let’s make a deal. I’ll not only track your missing pet for you, I’ll give you something to keep tracking him if he gets away again--  _ if….” _

Ra’s tilted his head back to look down his nose at the smug sorcerer. Faust spread his hands out as if offering a platter.

“You tell me  _ why _ you’re after him.” Faust bowed his head and crossed his arms again, grinning as if he’d already won Ra’s’ agreement. “Do that, and I’ll help you, no bribe from your Lazarus Pit necessary.”

“No.”

Faust’s face fell dramatically. “Oh come on--”

“As I said, this is none of your affair, Faust,” Ra’s kept his voice even and his spine straight. He couldn’t afford to throw the sorcerer out-- he had enough knowledge now that he could probably find Harry on his own, and Ra’s needed to get to the young man first. “If you are unable to keep your word in regards to our bargain, then I shall need to let others in our circle know to take certain… precautions… in their dealings with you.”

Faust pouted, lips out in an angry pucker and his whole body slumped over like a child. Then he brightened and spun around to grab the manacles that had been tossed and forgotten on the bed.

“What if I sweetened the deal for you?” he said eagerly. He held the manacles up and magically ripped the inner leather cuff away from the metal cuff and chain, tossing the latter away. “When you do catch up with your wayward magic user, you have no way to keep him from simply vanishing again after all.” Faust grinned and held up the leather cuff, no more than a strap and buckle now. “I’ll add in something to keep that from happening, on top of finding him for you!”

Ra’s took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking quickly. 

“Why such interest?” he asked. He opened his eyes to watch Faust toss the leather cuff up and down like a ball. “What does it matter to you what I want with the boy?”

Faust shrugged. “It doesn’t really. But… I thought I knew everyone of any substantial power in the more esoteric circles of the world, yet I’ve never seen his face.” He caught the cuff and laughed. “If someone with the power to do the things I’ve seen here has managed to stay a hermit in this day and age, he might know a few more tricks I’d be interested in. It might be nice to, eh, talk shop, shall we say?”

“So you want nothing particular from him then?”

“Hmm, not at present,” Faust said with a shrug. “But really that would be up to him. Magical folk make their own rules for how to engage services, and I don’t even know what community he came from, do I?”

“He is mine, Faust,” Ra’s said severely. “Any business you wish to present to him will go through  _ me.” _

Faust smirked. “Only if you catch him first.” The sorcerer leaned back and waved the cuff at him teasingly. “You know, I’m almost tempted to cut my losses and go looking for the boy myself. Speaking with another practitioner is sure to be more productive than dragging anything of worth out of you.”

“If you do, know that the entirety of my forces will be out for your blood, Faust,” Ra’s hissed. “And while I may not be as much of an expert in magical practices as you, I am well versed in all the ways to keep my enemies dead.”

“Oh jeesh!” Faust rolled his eyes and shook his head tiredly. “You always have to be  _ so  _ dramatic!” He held his hands up as he crossed a glowing ‘x’ across his chest. “I swear that anything I learn, or have learned, about your target today, I will keep to myself and never share, by word, ink, or blood. Your secret will be safe with me.”

Ra’s stared at the sorcerer as he finished the oath binding and stood with his hands propped on his hips, regarding him seriously.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Well, now I’m curious!” Faust shrugged. “I really don’t care what your plan for this boy is, and I promise I have no real interest in him beyond an academic fascination. But you’ve been acting odd since you called me. Frankly, I just want to know what the big secret is-- it’s  _ killing _ me not knowing why you’re so obsessed with someone you obviously know nothing about!”

Ra’s ground his teeth together and glared. “Why must you always be so childish?” he snapped.

Faust pursed his lips. “I’m older than you,” he said with a haughty sniff.

“And yet, you always behave as if you are no more than a bratty child, fresh off his mother’s leash!”

“Ha! I am young in spirit!” Faust clucked his tongue. “You really do need to learn how to have more fun, Ra’s. That sour attitude is more aging than years.”

Ra’s closed his eyes, feeling a headache throb to life the longer he kept glaring at the sorcerer. “I want the binding to only be put on and removed by myself,” he said stiffly.

“Hmm, I can do that,” Faust said silkily.

Ra’s opened his eyes, looked down at the annoying sorcerer, and told him. Faust's eyes widened to saucers, before closing tight as he laughed until he fell over.

Then, he fulfilled every promise, making a magic binding in the leather cuff to keep Harry from disappearing, and pinpointing his location on a world map, the glowing dot moving as Harry moved so Ra’s could follow wherever he ran to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot even begin to thank you all for being as crazy as I am. I just... you actually like this? Omigod what have I done, this pairing doesn't exist! I don't know where it came from or where it's going, it makes no sense! WHYYYYYYY
> 
> (ノ*゜▽゜*)ノ Whatever! 
> 
> Thank you everyone! I really needed a good distraction and this fic is it apparently. Love you my fellow trash raccoons, I will do my best to keep this going!!!!

* * *

Ra’s finally caught up with his soulmate in Tokyo. 

According to the map, Harry teleported at least twice, first from Cape Town, then from Amsterdam, all while Ra’s and his people were in the air, racing after the dot on the map. Luckily, he seemed content to stay put for more than a few hours after his third teleportation, and was still wandering Akihabara when the plane landed. Ra’s had even received confirmation reports from agents already located in the area, so all he had to do was plan his approach.

This time, he was aware of Harry’s abilities, and how easily he might slip through any net Ra’s threw at him. This time, he was not sure if Harry would be willing to face him, or if he would vanish the moment they met. 

But so long as Ra’s was able to get Faust’s spelled cuff on him, then it shouldn’t matter. If Harry was unable to teleport, then eventually Ra’s would tire him out. He just needed to get close enough to put the cuff on him.

So the first thing to do was to stage an ambush.

That should be a simple enough task once the agents following Harry reported him entering a busy shokudo. Ra’s had no expectation of keeping the confrontation secret, and without a Batman to avoid, no reason to bother. His assassins hid themselves throughout the block, and Ra’s entered the lowly restaurant followed minutes later by two more of his Shadows.

Harry was seated at the bar around the chef, eating some rice dish and laughing with an obviously drunk man beside him. He didn’t notice Ra’s standing at the entrance, pretending to wait for a seat. It should have been difficult to blend in with his imposing height, but Ra’s was as practised at the art of concealment as his assassins, as well as an expert at ingratiating himself to almost anyone, and so easily joined a couple in conversation and moved with them when they were led to a table.

Ra’s passed right behind his soulmate as he separated from the couple and headed to the bathroom. Harry was chatting happily with his drunk companion, in the local tongue, and sharing a plate of fried chicken with the man. He was no longer dressed in the clothing Ra’s had gifted him, back in his typical rags-- a long sleeved shirt and jeans, with a cotton hoodie tossed over his chair.

As Ra’s moved past them, he heard Harry laughing more loudly, and turned to see him wrap an arm over the drunk’s shoulders as they spoke. Ra’s forced himself to keep walking. If he turned back and stabbed the drunken wretch in the throat, Harry would likely not only vanish, but might never let his guard down this much again.

He entered the bathroom, resolved to wait until his assassins had taken position around his soulmate, cutting off the escape routes. It didn’t take long, and as soon as Ra’s was notified that everyone was in place, he stalked back out.

Harry was listening intently to the drunk man’s ramblings about some meaningless aspect of his job, and Ra’s was more than happy to place a possessive hand on his soulmate’s shoulder to pull him out of his chair. 

“Hey!” Harry grabbed onto the bar and kept Ra’s from moving him any further, but by then Ra’s was already standing between the two, so it hardly mattered.

“You left before we could speak,” Ra’s said mildly. The look Harry gave him was both incredulous and strangely exasperated. It may have been the lighting of the restaurant, but Harry’s eyes were startling for how very green they were.

“Pretty sure that’s a sign we have nothing to talk about.” Harry tried to subtly move out of Ra’s’ hold, but Ra’s only tightened his grip. The young man frowned at him and reached up to remove Ra’s' hand directly.

“And what would our meeting again be a sign of?” Ra’s smiled as Harry pulled his hand off, reaching his other up to take Harry’s hand between his own, and smoothly clasped the leather cuff around his wrist at the same time.

Harry blinked down at the cuff and tugged his arm out of reach, stepping back from him. “I think it’s a sign that you have problems.”

“My only problem,” Ra’s said pleasantly, “I am currently in the process of rectifying.”

Harry seemed to realise something was wrong, and it was good Ra’s had prioritized placing the cuff on him first, because in the next second his soulmate flashed from directly in front of him to three feet back and two feet in the air with a rush of wind and the crackle of lightning. Harry fell to the ground with a cry, right hand going to the cuff on his wrist as if it had burned.

“And I think,” Ra’s continued smugly, “that it will be solved sooner rather than later.”

The glare Harry sent him before running for the door was fierce indeed, those viridescent eyes seeming to glow like nothing he’d ever seen outside the Pit, and Ra’s felt immense satisfaction. He had not only finally found his soulmate after centuries of waiting, but found him to be unique and powerful beyond his imagination.

All that was left to do was collect the young man and take him home.

* * *

Despite Ra’s’ initial pleasure at the skill and power his soulmate displayed, after seven hours of chasing the young man all across Tokyo, he was starting to wish Harry was a little less special.

The cuff did exactly as Faust promised-- it kept Harry from teleporting around the world-- and his soulmate was absolutely furious about it. Unfortunately, the cuff did not seem to cut off any of Harry’s other abilities. Even worse, he kept trying to force his teleportation to work and he was steadily increasing the distance he could go. 

Ra's was never going to trust Faust with anything again. 

As the day turned into night, the chase became little more than Harry being briefly cornered before suddenly flashing several meters away from wherever he had been just as an assassin was about to grab him. He also cursed near continuously as he futily clawed at the cuff and lashed out now and again by setting the air on fire and throwing everything not nailed down into a mini cyclone before running away.

There was no way to hide the fuss he created as Ra’s’ people chased him around until he tired. Ra’s' connections with the local government ensured they would not interfere no matter the public outcry, though he was annoyed to have to use his influence in such a manner. He also had to send a few of his people out to find and destroy any video of Harry’s more extravagant escapes.

But Harry _was_ getting steadily more and more exhausted, while Ra’s’ forces were kept rested by tag-teaming-- several teams would chase Harry while others followed further back in cars, then they would switch, keeping Harry moving until he made a mistake. The fact that it took a little over seven hours for that mistake to be made was actually quite impressive.

Also quite annoying, but Ra's was looking on the bright side.

In the end, he missed the moment Harry misstepped. His assassins, despite being more than able to continue a hunt like this for days on end, were eager to return their master’s soulmate to him as quickly as possible. They also may have been tired of breathing in ash and being hit in the head with trash. In any case, when Harry was getting frustrated and tried to teleport again, the teams chasing him all shot off sedative darts into the air around them, and one managed to hit.

Harry ended up falling almost immediately into a river when the drug kicked in, but he was secured and delivered to Ra’s safely, if a bit filthy. 

Ra’s took him via helicopter to a base located near Kyoto where he was then given to Ubu to bathe again. Ubu was incredibly careful, and by morning the next day, Harry was in Ra’s’ bedroom at the complex, beautifully dressed in a green and black keikogi with a gold belt, and he was very awake.

Ra’s almost missed having him unconscious.

_“Why_ do you keep kidnapping me?” Harry yelled. “Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“I cannot,” Ra’s said calmly, unwilling to risk driving the young man further away by lashing out. “I have been searching for you for most of my life. Now that I have found you, I will not simply leave you be.”

“Bullshit! You don’t even know me!”

“No,” Ra’s admitted, “but I would like to.”

Harry rolled his eyes and walked away from him. “Yeah, well too bad, because I _don’t!”_

That Ra’s could not allow. “Stop!” He grabbed Harry by the arm to pull him back around, and was knocked away by a bolt of lightning. “Ahh!”

“Get off me!” Harry glared at him and rubbed his arms as if cold. Ra’s was certain that he was feeling cold, he must have been feeling it all this time just as Ra’s did. Until they had touched again.

“Listen to me,” Ra’s said softly as it was better now to be conciliatory rather than stern. Harry could not escape, he had nothing to worry about. “Please, you are my soulmate. Can you not feel it?”

Harry stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Then he started laughing crazily. 

“Are you joking?” he snarled. He marched up to Ra’s and waved the backs of his hands in his face. “Does it look like I have a soulmate? No mark, no name, no nothing! So fuck off!”

Ra’s lunged quickly and hooked his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, right over the mark hidden there. Harry tried to pull back, but too late. He tried to shoot another lightning bolt but it fizzled into harmless sparks as sensations from the mark overran his mind and body. In the end, he only managed to flail weakly before falling limp to his knees in Ra’s arms.

“Do you not feel it?” Ra’s whispered into Harry’s hair, his other arm coming up to wrap around the young man’s back while the one on his neck stroked gently. “We are soulmates, beloved. You bear my name upon your body, just as I bear yours.”

“No, no, no, no--” Harry breathed out the word over and over, shaking and pushing weakly against Ra’s' shoulders. “This can’t-- I can’t-- I don’t have any mark, you’re not--!”

Ra’s slowly took hold of one of Harry’s trembling hands and pulled it up and around until he could press his soulmate’s fingers against his own neck. The moment Harry made contact with Ra’s soulmark, a great rush of feeling flooded through him, then through his touch on Harry’s mark, then back into him, over and over in a circle between their bodies, washing through them again and again until both were overwhelmed. Every sensation was shared back and forth like a reflection in opposing mirrors, every thought, every feeling suddenly amplified between them as if they were an echo chamber made flesh.

Ra’s didn’t even realize he had pulled Harry up against him by his neck until the young man moaned long and deep into his mouth. He blinked and felt-- breathing out around his tongue as he plundered that hot, damp mouth, sucking air past a tongue filling his mouth and stroking sharp, burning trails inside him-- he blinked again, not sure what had come from him and what from Harry, because the strength of the sensations were too strong to pull apart. 

Ra’s felt a hand on his hip pulling him onto a lap and being held tight, but he was certain he had dragged Harry to settle with legs spread over his thighs to thrust up against a hot, trembling body. His soulmate slid up and down against his chest as Ra’s thrusted while still kneeling, and they weren’t nearly close enough with cloth still separating them. For a moment he thought of how much better this would feel if he could lay Harry out on his bed, untie the gold belt and open the uwagi like he was unwrapping a gift, softly touching and tasting every inch of skin as it was bared.

Harry moaned again, and the sound made his mind go blank. His hand was on Harry’s neck still, Harry’s hand was on his neck still, and neither of them seemed to be able to let go. Ra’s didn’t want to let go. Harry would leave if he did.

As if the thought was a prophecy, Harry suddenly yanked his hand away from Ra’s’ neck, and the endless loop of shared sensation vanished. Ra’s blinked and felt only the heat of his soulmate, and Harry trembling and rocking against him mindlessly, lost still in the feelings of both their bodies-- Ra’s’ hand remained on his soulmark.

“Ah! Please, please--!” Harry cried and arched back into Ra’s’ hand on his neck while grinding his groin down on Ra’s’ painfully erect member, trapped beneath layers of silk and cotton. Utterly breathtaking though his soulmate was, this was no way to have a conversation.

“My-- my apologies,” Ra’s said, feeling suddenly worn out. It took a fair amount of willpower to move his hand away from the mark, and down Harry’s back instead. 

Almost immediately, Harry shuddered and fell against him, arms dropping down to Ra’s’ waist and face buried snugly in the joining of his throat and shoulder. He ran his hands up and down the young man’s back and just held him. 

They were both still achingly aroused-- he could feel a hardness from Harry poking into his stomach-- but now they had only to deal with their own sensations, no longer forced to feel another’s body as well. Ra’s had forgotten how intense it could be, to feel another as if feeling himself. The… feedback, as it were, was far more than he had been prepared for, possibly more than it had ever been with Sora. He couldn’t remember if their connection had ever been this strong, or if it had been easier to stay separate because she was female, or if he had simply been without a soulmate for so long he was oversensitive.

“I-- I can’t--” Harry whispered harshly against his throat. “Soulmarks aren’t supposed to be on the neck-- why is it there?”

Ra’s sighed, his breath blowing Harry’s hair up to tickle his chin. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I do not know for certain, but your mark likely mirrors my own.”

_“Why?”_ Harry whined, low and desperate, and all Ra’s wanted to do was rock the young man against him until he made far more pleasant sounds, but he also wanted to have Harry touch him again and again, even after letting go. 

So… they actually needed to talk.

“My first soulmark was on my left hand,” he said as he stroked a hand up Harry’s back to comb into his hair-- careful to avoid his neck. “After she died, the mark disappeared and I… not long after, I too was near death.”

Harry sucked in a breath, his hands suddenly clenching onto his shirt, and Ra’s cursed that he was still wearing it when he could have had Harry’s hands clawing against his skin instead.

“I entered a powerful regenerative spring I had discovered,” he continued, “to heal myself and restore my broken body, and when I emerged I had my second soulmark. Your name, upon my neck.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t it have been on your other hand? Why did it appear at all just because of some magic spring? _Why me?”_

“I myself have never understood the mark's appearance. There were no answers I could find as no other who entered any of the Pits ever received a soulmark-- their first or second.” Ra’s sighed. “But I have always searched. And I finally found you.” 

He rubbed his cheek against the top of Harry’s head and lowered his hand to pull the young man tight against him, their groins pressed deliciously hard together as the movement made Harry shift on his lap. 

“Can you blame me for chasing you?”

“Ah! Merlin--” Harry gasped and raised his hands to push against him until Ra’s allowed him to slowly slide backwards, the young man’s ass dragging across his groin, his thighs, until he spilled onto the ground before him. His soulmate leaned back on his arms, staring at him dazed and panting as if he’d fallen before Ra’s after running around the world to reach him. “I-I need to think. You need to stop touching me-it’s- it’s--”

“Too difficult to think with my hands on you, beloved?” Ra’s grinned, longing suddenly to sink his teeth into the young man’s throat just to hear him cry out.

“Don’t call me that, you don’t know me.” Harry frowned at him and moved a few more inches away. Ra’s couldn’t bring himself to be too concerned though; his soulmate’s legs remained splayed out around him, and one ankle pressed into Ra’s hand where it rested on the ground beside him. “And _yes_ it is! So knock it off!”

Ra’s shifted his hand so it just barely moved away from his soulmate’s limb. The feeling that filled his whole body when Harry, seemingly unconscious of it, moved his leg to press back into his hand was almost as intense as the connection they had just broken.

“I just--” Harry ran his hands through his hair, tugging it hard as he looked away, “I _can’t_ have a soulmate! This-- I can’t even see the mark-- it shouldn’t be there--!”

That finally made Ra’s frown and lean forward. Harry flinched when he lost contact with Ra’s' hand, but settled when that same hand landed on his shoulder.

“It _is_ there, and we _are_ bound _,”_ Ra’s said fiercely. “I will allow many things from you, but _not_ pretending that we are not one.”

“We aren’t one!” Harry brushed his hand off and shoved himself back, out of reach, and rubbed his arms at the sudden chill that came over them both. “We aren’t _anything!”_

Ra’s snarled and shot forward to again grab Harry by the back of the neck. Heat returned to his body, and his soulmate shuddered and bowed toward him with a soft cry. He could have pinned Harry there, forced him to feel the connection between their bodies until he begged forgiveness for trying to refute the bond, but he needed Harry to understand even when they weren’t touching. 

He needed Harry to see.

Harry grabbed onto his arm with a shout as Ra’s pulled him up by his neck like a kitten, but he did not, Ra’s noticed, try particularly hard to break out of the hold. He dragged his soulmate across the room into the dressing chamber attached to the bath, and shoved Harry face first into a full length mirror. He held up a small table mirror he had grabbed as they passed through the doorway and angled it so Harry’s neck was reflected where he could see.

“There,” Ra’s moved his hand down from Harry’s neck to his back, pinning the young man against the mirror until he looked up and saw the reflection. “Do you see now? The soulmark you bear-- _my name,_ written upon your skin-- marking you as _mine._ Do you dare try to tell me it does not exist?”

“I am _not_ yours!” Harry braced his hands on the mirror and shoved back hard, actually pushing Ra’s away before spinning to face him. 

Ra’s stepped into him, grabbing a wrist before he could move, and pressed their bodies together in a long, hot line. He held the table mirror up behind his own neck, tilting it until Harry’s eyes went wide and his struggles ceased.

“Just as your name is written upon me,” he said quietly, “and marks me for you.”

Harry’s face twisted as if he was in pain, such confusion filling his eyes as if he truly could not believe what he was seeing. “No, no, no, this-- this can’t be right,” he whispered under his breath, and he pulled at Ra’s' shoulder, stepped around him to see the mark directly.

Ra’s let go and moved back, turning to the side as Harry walked around him to look up at his neck. He did not bend his knees or lower himself in any way to make it easier, but Harry could see the soulmark well enough that it wasn’t necessary. He watched Harry from the corner of his eye in the mirror as the young man stared at the mark with shock. He reached a hand up, almost brushing against Ra’s' skin before pulling back as if he thought better of it.

“Touch me, beloved,” Ra’s said to him, and Harry’s head turned to meet his eyes in the mirror. “Touch, and know that I am yours.”

Harry frowned at him, such a concerned face which then went hard with determination and, not breaking his gaze with Ra’s’ reflection, reached up and connected them through the mark. Ra’s let out a deep sigh at the feeling of a hand on his neck, a neck under his hand, the heat rushing between two bodies, the confusion, realization, fear, loneliness, anger, and finally completion.

Harry shivered behind him and slowly leaned forward until his head, chest, and arm all rested flush with Ra’s’ back. The sensation of being touched but also touching, of having an incessant warmth plastered to his back but also firm support holding him up and burning like a furnace was incredible. Behind him, Harry pressed the palm of his hand completely over the mark, covering it, and turned his head so his cheek rubbed along Ra’s’ spine and he could face the mirror again, watching Ra’s be overcome with feeling of their bodies closer than the breath filling his lungs.

Ra’s relished the simple touches that bloomed between their bodies as they swayed into each other. Let Harry see how much their sharing undid him.

After a time, Harry turned his face away, his other cheek rested against Ra’s’ back and looked out at the dressing room instead. His hand slowly slid down Ra’s' neck to his shoulder, then further down to curl in the shirt over his back. Ra’s breathed deep and willed his heartbeat to slow before turning around to pull Harry into a hug.

“This still doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered. 

Ra’s ran his hands up Harry’s back to fist in his hair and pulled his soulmate’s head back. Harry frowned at him, looking far from pleased, before Ra’s sealed their mouths together, determined to show him what a pleasure their connection could be.

Ra’s forced his tongue past lips parted in a gasp, to caress the roof of Harry’s mouth and tangle with his tongue as he tried to push him out, his hands held the young man’s head in place as he tried to twist away. After a few minutes, Ra’s managed to coax Harry’s tongue out to suck into his own mouth, and his soulmate finally moaned and leaned into the kiss.

When Harry fisted his hands into Ra’s' shirt and tried to pull him down, Ra’s decided he’d made his point and pulled back, breaking the kiss and eliciting a sweetly frustrated groan from the young man. He grinned at the sight of Harry’s flushed face glaring at him as he stepped back.

“At least give me the chance to get to know you,” he said demurely. Harry huffed at him, clearly not buying Ra’s suddenly submissive act. He smiled, pleased that his soulmate was at least not a fool, and raised his hands to run along the young man’s arms, then up further to cup his face. “Please, beloved. One day at least by my side before you refuse me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but leaned into his touch all the same. “I want to think about this,” he said firmly. “I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“Of course,” Ra’s let his eyes crinkle with smug satisfaction. One day was more than he would need to convince the one meant to be with him to stay forever.

“And we’re _not_ having sex,” Harry added as he crossed his arms. 

But he still didn’t pull away, not even when Ra’s leaned down to press another kiss to his lips. He leaned into both Ra’s’ hands and his mouth, though his eyes glared very sourly after the kiss ended.

“As you wish,” Ra’s said as he stepped back. “Why don’t we start with sharing a meal? I imagine you must be quite hungry after all the running you did.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry grumbled.

Ra’s led him out of the private rooms and down a hallway to a still very private chamber arranged with a low table and piles of cushions over a plush, vibrant carpet. They sat together, not touching, but close enough that Ra’s was sure they would be before the meal was over.

However, before food could be brought out for them, Harry shoved his arm in Ra’s' face, fist closed and the leather cuff directly under his nose.

“Take. It. _Off.”_

Ra’s raised a brow at the furious look on his soulmate’s face. He gently took the hand before his face and pressed soft kisses against the knuckles.

“Don’t you--” Harry yanked on his arm but Ra’s’ hold was stronger. “Take it _off! Now!”_

“There is no need to shout, beloved,” Ra’s said as he unbuckled the cuff, allowing it to fall to the table. “I only wished to keep you from fleeing to the other side of the world again before we were able to speak.” 

He turned Harry’s hand around to kiss his palm. He closed his eyes as he rubbed his mouth and chin into Harry’s curled fingers, then pressed it against his cheek as if Harry were holding him still for a kiss. It was a luxurious pleasure to have such intimate contact with his soulmate. 

Harry, however, only stared at him, flushed and angry, but with blown eyes focused on Ra's' lips and a heady pulse beating under his skin. Ra’s smiled and ran his fingers down to caress the red scratches Harry had made all over his wrist trying to claw the cuff off throughout the night.

“You are absolutely horrible, aren’t you?” Harry muttered when Ra’s finally let his hand go. 

He didn’t miss Ra’s snagging the cuff off the table, more’s the pity, but neither did he comment on it. He also didn’t pull his hand back, but let it fall to the table beside where Ra’s had rested his own.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Ra’s closed his eyes with pleasure. Even without touching, he could feel the heat emanating from Harry’s hand beside his.

Harry snorted in disbelief, and then the food was laid out for them in an elegant spread. Ra’s tried not to feel too disappointed when the heat pulled away as Harry moved to eat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this month... （´。｀) several months ago I couldn't wait for Halloween, but now... I just want the whole damn year to be over! (´皿｀)
> 
> ANyway- got another chapter of this insane trash pair! ^-^ Still don't know what's happening. Still don't know how this works... but. They talked? I think? I kept waiting for Ra's to just rip clothes off or something, cause I just had this FEELinG that was what was going to happen... but maybe that's the mythical next chapter? We'll see! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, okay? And feel free to visit my tumblr and instagram. I'm using social media in place of proper human contact now! =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪ ‧̣̥̇) hhahahaha...... ミ(ノ_ _)ノ

* * *

The meal was excellent, as usual for Ra’s, a rich, decorative fair suitable for royalty-  _ not _ the sort of food a homeless drifter would ever encounter. Yet Harry ate with little awe, taking each bite up with his hashi as if accustomed to slow, delicate nibbles which savored every individual flavor as he ate. He moved with careless grace as he plucked each bite up, and he followed the proper order to eat the dishes without any prompting.

Ra’s couldn’t help but frown, not from any disappointment- far from it, as this meant his soulmate would require less training- but from surprise. It was a sign that Ra’s' knowledge of Harry was not complete. After five years of tracking and observation, that should not be possible.

“Is everything to your liking, dearest?”

Harry paused and looked at him sideways. “Don’t call me that, and,” he shrugged and put the hashi down, “sure. Food’s good, thanks for asking.”

Ra’s frowned harder. It felt as though Harry was being intentionally rude. “If there is anything you find lacking, I can have it brought out.”

“This is fine.” Harry shrugged again and sat back to watch him, just as Ra’s had watched him while he ate. “So… what is your name?”

Ra’s sent him a pleasant, practiced smile, as if he hadn’t expected Harry to not know how to read the name of his soulmark. Harry gave him a very unimpressed look back.

“I am Ra’s al Ghul,” he said with a purr. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, beloved.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and he sat further back from the table to cross his arms. “Huh.”

Ra’s’ mouth twitched almost into a frown before he forced it back into a smile. “You have heard of me I take it?”

“No,” Harry said shortly. “Never heard of a name like that before.”

“Yet you seem displeased by it.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s not your name.”

Ra’s stilled, the polite smile falling off his face as he met his soulmate’s glare. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Harry said- in Arabic now instead of the Japanese they had been conversing in since the night before. “I may not know what my mark reads, but it is  _ not _ ‘head of the demon’- and that’s a stupid name by the way.”

Ra’s clacked his hashi down on the table with a harsh slap. Harry met his glare evenly and uncrossed his arms. 

“You will not speak to me that way.” Ra’s fought to keep his voice even and not let it stray into the growl it wanted to.

“It’s not my fault you chose to lie and made up some dumb, overly dramatic bullshit.” Harry’s face twisted with his own fury, completely uncaring of the danger he risked by challenging Ra’s so blatantly. “You assumed I’d be naive enough to believe whatever you wanted- after stalking me around the world with an army of ninjas! Guess you would be egotistical enough to pick a name that inflated.”

Ra’s stood in a sudden, violent move that shoved the table back, intending to loom over his foolish soulmate, but Harry was gone with a loud pop.

“Wow, are you upset?” Harry asked from behind him. Ra’s whirled around to glare. “It’s your fault for being a liar.”

Ra’s closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Harry  _ was _ acting out deliberately- speaking with a sarcastic drawl and rolling his eyes, behaving dramatic and rude. He was clearly upset, and when Ra’s forced himself to think rather than react to him, he could understand why. 

If his soulmate ever lied to him so blatantly, he would be equally furious.

Of course, he would have displayed that anger with more decorum. He wondered if perhaps magicals in general were prone to childishness, because once he mentally stepped back from the sting of insult, he was reminded greatly of Faust’s infantile challenges.

“My apologies,” Ra’s said finally. “You are correct.”

“Oh  _ wow! _ Really?” Harry pressed his hands to his cheeks in mock shock. 

“You may  _ desist _ now,” Ra’s snarled. He took another deep breath and forced his muscles to relax. “I admit that I was wrong to imply the name you bear is the same as the name I use, but I promise you it was mere habit on my part, not a deliberate deception.”

Harry relaxed his own stance, but still looked skeptical. Ra’s gestured for him to follow and led him out of the room to a courtyard garden. 

It was warm out, and the garden path was bathed in sunlight, dragonflies darting to and fro in the golden light. They walked silently, only a stray pebble knocked aside by Harry’s footsteps, and the quiet helped calm Ra’s further. 

“I have not used the name you bear in longer than you have been alive,” he said finally. “Ra’s al Ghul has been my identity, my name, for a very, very long time.”

Harry hummed beside him and didn’t look up. Ra’s looked away from him and concentrated on the path. In hindsight he should have expected his soulmate to challenge him and refuse to back down. One meant to be his perfect match could do no less. But he would have preferred this first argument to be over something less personal.

“All my people know me only as Ra’s al Ghul,” he continued. “As such, I would have you use that name as well.”

Harry immediately stopped walking and glared at him, his eyes burning with silent rage. Ra's turned to the young man and held up a hand.

“I will tell you the name you bear, and so long as we are in private I do not mind if you call me by it. But anywhere else, I must be only Ra’s al Ghul.” Ra’s lowered his hand and fixed his soulmate with a stern look. “Can you promise me that?”

Harry scoffed and looked away from him. “Stalker, liar, and selfishly demanding,” he said. “At least you’re not trying too hard to hide your bad points.”

“Childish, insolent, and mulishly stubborn,” Ra’s bit out. “One wonders if you have any good points at all.”

“At least I’m not an egomaniac who sends ninjas with swords after their own damn soulmate!”

“If you had come quietly from the beginning, it needn’t have escalated so far--”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,  _ no!” _ Harry sneered and waved a finger in Ra’s’ face like he was scolding a child. “You do  _ not _ get to make any of that  _ my _ fault! You’ve been having people stalk me for  _ five bloody years!” _ As he spoke, Harry suddenly transitioned to English, likely because he had slipped into cursing. Ra’s recalled that all his curses in Tokyo had also been in English- in Gotham too, though he had spoken in English the whole time there. “If you had just approached me like a normal person and said ‘Hey! I think we’re soulmates, can we talk?’ then everything would be fine!”

Ra’s knocked Harry’s hand away and loomed over him with a growl. "You have no idea how many enemies I have who would have taken such an exchange--” 

Harry growled right back and bared his teeth. “But  _ no!” _ he yelled.  _ “You _ had to have me kidnapped--  _ twice!” _ He pulled back to yank at the black and green uwagi he wore. “And you stole my clothes and redressed me! Who the hell does that!”

“I stole nothing,” Ra’s said with a superior sniff. He smirked nastily as Harry opened his mouth to refute him. “I had your  _ rags _ burned.”

Harry’s mouth snapped shut as he stared at him. Then he closed his eyes and brought his hands up to rub at his forehead as if in pain. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “You’re actually insane, aren’t you? Why are they always crazy?”

“I assure you, beloved,” Ra’s grabbed hold of Harry’s chin and lifted his face up, “I am quite sane.”

Even now Harry didn’t back down. He only sighed exhaustedly before glaring up at him. “I want my hoodie back you selfish asshole.”

Ra’s let his fingers linger a moment longer on Harry’s skin, enjoying the warmth pouring into him from the contact, but let go so he could turn and continue walking unconcernedly. 

“Unfortunately, beloved, that scrap of polyester no longer exists. But if you desire a jacket so badly, I will be happy to provide one for you.”

“No thanks,” Harry said behind him, and there was a flash of light in the corner of his eye. When Ra’s turned around, the uwagi was gone, replaced by a deep red hooded jacket exactly like the one Harry had worn when he was captured. “I can dress myself.”

“That was a gift,” Ra’s said, trying not to show his annoyance that Harry was no longer wearing his color.

“One which I received while unconscious,” Harry said with a wry look. “And if it is a gift, then I can do what I want with it.”

Ra’s disagreed, but was not willing to argue with his soulmate out in the open about it. Harry, naturally, took his silence as a win and grinned the rest of the walk back to Ra’s’ bedroom.

"So, going to tell me your name now?" Harry said the moment the door was closed. 

Ra's sighed and sat down at the tea table in the corner of the large room. "I shall, once you can promise me you will not repeat it to any other."

"You realize that's a ridiculous demand, right?"

"I will not yield on this, Harry."

His soulmate rolled his eyes as he took a seat at the table with him. "Fine, but I'm not calling you 'head' because that's even more ridiculous." 

Harry had switched back to Arabic, as fluidly as if he never stopped. It took Ra’s a moment to fully switch back before he could respond.

"My name holds more power than most countries are capable of wielding," he said tightly. "You owe it more respect than you have shown."

"Respect is earned," Harry said with a frown, "and a silly, spooky name- which is  _ not _ the one I bear- has earned nothing from me."

It seemed his soulmate could hold a grudge, and about his name of all things. Any other man might be pleased for their soulmate to feel such possession over their name, but Ra’s no longer felt that name as his own. He was Ra’s al Ghul and no other. It would have been better if Harry’s mark bore that truth rather than a discarded past.

"And what of me, beloved?" he asked. "Am I not owed your respect?"

Harry laughed. "Oh man…." He sat up and held up a hand to count as he spoke. "Five years of stalking by ninjas, two kidnappings, drugged into unconsciousness-- again twice-- and apparently you burned my clothes!"

Ra's frowned at him as he sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. 

"Frankly, the fact that I am still sitting here and willing to talk to you is _ more _ respect than anyone in your position deserves!"

“What would you have had me do?” Ra’s asked derisively. “Walk up to you on the street, declare our connection, and just expect you to believe me and not vanish at the first opportunity?”

“Yes! Obviously-- anyone else in the world would have.” Harry looked at him curiously. “Was it really that scary to trust me, just because we hadn’t met yet?”

Ra’s sneered and looked away. He was losing control of this encounter and he wasn’t quite sure how to steer the conversation back where he wanted. Harry was far more unpredictable and stubborn than he had anticipated, and Ra’s was loath to antagonize him when his desire was to develop an amicable relationship. 

"I have been searching for my soulmate for years," he finally admitted. "I have met many Harry Potters over those years. I suppose… I grew used to the disappointment."

Ra's refused to appear meek and met his soulmate's gaze defiantly. Harry offered no obvious reaction at first, but finally, after several minutes of silent glaring, he sighed. 

"Fine," he leaned on the table and propped his chin in his hand. "I guess I can understand that, even if I don't agree." He blew out a low, annoyed breath. "And I have a feeling if I wait for you to apologize, we'll be here until the sun dies."

“I will not apologize for doing what I thought best.” Ra’s glared at his soulmate’s carelessly relaxed pose. “My methods may seem extreme to you, but they have served me well in the past, and it ensured our meeting as quickly and safely as possible.”

“Pfft!” Harry snorted and dropped his head a he smothered a laugh. “I wouldn’t call five years of annoying stalking the quickest way to meet up.”

“Were you anyone else, it would have been,” Ra’s said with a sniff. “But alas, you appear to have far greater skill than I expected.”

That made Harry look up at him, eyes curved with his grin and shining with some secret amusement Ra’s couldn’t decipher.

“Well, I hope you at least learned something then,” Harry said, and he chuckled and grinned wider when Ra’s only raised an eyebrow curiously. “I am  _ not  _ anyone else,” he said, almost purring for how low his voice went. “If you try to treat me like you would just anyone, you are always going to lose.”

The sheer confidence in Harry’s words and the blatant challenge in his gaze set Ra’s’ blood boiling. But not from fury. His soulmate, his  _ match, _ of course he would be a challenge, and not one to be conquered, no. A constant challenge to be met and overcome, to grow each day out of the stagnation his long life had become. A thrill went up his spine as he stared at this glorious creature.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Harry blinked at him, the confident gaze he held falling away to worried perplexion. “I’m not sure I like how happy you are all of a sudden.”

“Is that not what soulmates are meant to do, beloved?” Ra’s laughed. “To make one another happy without any explanation?”

“I can’t say you’ve ever made  _ me _ that happy,” Harry grumbled. “Mostly you’ve just annoyed me.”

“Our first meeting is proof of that lie, my dear,” Ra’s said pleasantly. “You were so entertained, you could hardly speak through your laughter.”

Harry made a face but shrugged. "Yeah, well, that was very unexpected."

"You appreciate the unexpected?"

"I appreciate not being bored," Harry said with a wry smirk. "And while it was annoying to be stalked, a ninja chase across rooftops and a surprise sword duel is definitely not boring."

"I think then that you will never be bored with me." Ra's smiled. "It is where you belong."

"With you?"

"Yes." Ra's had another moment to bask in imagining how life would be with his soulmate, before Harry burst out laughing and got up from the table. 

"Uh, no. That's sweet and all, but not terribly convincing," he said with a frown. "I'm still mad about my hoodie."

"I can gift you a thousand more elegant jackets- in any color you wish- than that threadbare, plebian dish towel you call a garment!"

"Rude," Harry said as he strolled away. "I bought that hoodie new you know. It was blended cotton, not some affront to fashion."

"You deserve to be dressed in the very heights of fashion-"

"I deserve whatever I can earn," Harry snapped at him over his shoulder. "And I bought the damn thing with money I actually  _ worked _ for!"

"Are you sure it was not the fake money you magiked into existence?" Ra's snapped back. 

Harry turned back to face him with a surprised expression. 

"Yes, I am quite aware that not all the money to your name was rightly  _ earned,  _ beloved."

"Don't call me that," Harry snorted and propped a hand on his hip, face taking on an arrogant cast. "And so what? The money still came from my power, my effort. It's all the same to me."

Ra's laughed loudly, the feeling filling his chest too great to hold in. Poor Bruce, still waiting for his mark, never understanding just how well soulmates suited each other. When he calmed, he met Harry's gaze with a fierce grin and stood. 

Harry didn't flinch as Ra's stalked over to him, not even when Ra's pulled him flush against his body and sealed their mouths together in a burning kiss. He likely never would flinch, and Ra's couldn't be happier about it. 

Too soon, however, Harry pressed against Ra's' hold and broke the kiss with a gasp. 

"You are an incorrigible cheat," he panted as he pulled further away. Ra's loosened his grip only enough so his hands slid down thin arms to tighten more firmly around deceptively frail wrists. "I am still mad at you, you know."

"I am certain you will find it in yourself to forgive me," Ra's drawled as he slowly pulled Harry back to him. "Why waste time being angry when we could be happy instead?"

"Definitely incorrigible," Harry muttered, turning his head when Ra's leaned in for another kiss. 

A loud pop and suddenly Ra's' hands were empty. 

"You also still haven't told me your real name," Harry said from the side of the room, well out of reach. 

Ra's clenched his rapidly chilling hands into fists and turned to Harry with a razor sharp smile. "You have yet to assure me of your discretion once I reveal it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I promise not to tell anyone your name, no matter how funny it would be."

"I am going to require something more substantial than that," Ra's said as he walked toward Harry again. But rather than coming up to him, as Harry clearly expected, Ra's turned to a low, white sofa against the wall behind him and sat down. "A vow that you will not share it, even by accident."

"A vow?" Harry scoffed. "I guess magic users throw oaths around all the time here, huh?"

Ra's frowned, but before he could ask anything, Harry had already huffed and stepped closer, grabbing his hand as if to shake it. 

"I swear," he said solemnly, "I will not knowingly tell anyone your name, or speak it when any other but you are able to hear it." 

For the briefest moment Ra's felt a cool rope wind up his arm, like a stream moving uphill, until it faded back into the heat that was growing from his soulmate's touch. 

"There," Harry said as he dropped Ra's' hand and stepped back. "Vow made. Now stop stalling."

Ra's flexed his fingers and rolled his wrist, but no trace of the feeling that moved up his arm was left- only the cool wash over his whole body from losing contact with his soulmate again. 

"Very well," he said finally. "Come here."

He held his hand out, palm up until Harry took it, though he rolled his eyes dramatically as he did. Ra's pulled him down to sit tucked under his arm so he could lean close and whisper the name in his ear. 

"Seriously?" Harry tried to lean back to look him in the eye, but Ra's clutched him close and pressed soft kisses to his brow. "Oh for- let go a minute- is that really your name?"

"Yes." Ra's sighed and allowed Harry to push them apart, though their hands stayed on each other. “What of it?”

“Isn’t that- no.” Harry frowned. “It’s not Arabic, but it’s related, isn’t it?”

Amused, Ra’s nodded. Harry’s forehead puckered as he looked away, as if he was trying to remember something at the very edge of memory.

“It’s a Bedouin dialect,” he murmured as he thought. “Faith, or trust, or--”

“It is very old,” Ra’s interrupted him, frowning now as well, “and has long been out of use. It is a wonder you recognize enough to try and translate it; not many deign to learn the less common A'raab dialects.”

“It sounds similar to one I've heard before,” Harry said with a shrug. “And the writing, well… I can read basic Arabic but I’m really bad with abjad writings, so I didn’t recognize it until you said it aloud.” He gave Ra’s a wry look as he lifted a shoulder and bared his neck. “This is a pure abjad, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ra’s said, pleased despite his confusion. He had not expected his English named soulmate to either speak or read his preferred tongue, let alone be able to decipher a long dead one. “It is a purely consonantal alphabet, or it was. But you do not need to understand it, dearest.”

“It’s your name.”

“It  _ was _ my name,” Ra’s corrected. “No more. I am Ra’s al Ghul and that is all I will ever be.”

“The mark would have changed if that were the case.” Harry looked curious rather than displeased, his brow smoothing while his eyes crinkled as they focused on him.

“I suppose I have thought of my identity as more of a title than a name.” Ra’s shrugged dismissively and pulled Harry with him as he sat back. “I shall alter my thinking and the mark will follow.”

“I guess.” Harry looked amused of all things, though Ra’s was at a loss as to why. After a moment, Harry settled into his side with a soft breath that carried his name with it. 

Ra’s closed his eyes and chose to ignore it. “Are you satisfied now, beloved?”

“No,” Harry said simply, “and don’t call me that.”

“You have my name, as I have yours,” Ra’s whispered into Harry’s hair as he stroked a firm hand along his arm. “What more do you need from me?”

“Need from you?”

“To accept your place by my side of course.”

“An apology would be nice.”

Ra’s chuckled. “I apologize,” he said easily.

“For what?” Harry twisted in his arms to look at him, eyebrows raised doubtfully.

“For chasing you instead of talking to you,” Ra’s said before placing a brief kiss on his forehead. “For drugging you instead of speaking, for chaining you instead of trusting you.” For each apology, Ra’s placed kiss after kiss until finally he rested with his lips pressed to his soulmate’s skin and simply breathed in the scent of him.

“And?” Harry asked under his chin.

Ra’s blinked and sat back to look down at him. “And?” he repeated blankly.

“And… my hoodie?” 

Harry looked both terribly amused and strangely exasperated. Ra’s could only blink at him in disbelief. Harry huffed. 

“The ninjas were… well, they weren’t  _ so _ bad. Mostly annoying.” He shrugged. “But sort of fun at first.” He grinned up at Ra’s. “And the sword duel- that was definitely fun. Completely unexpected, and mostly I didn’t like being drugged, so otherwise that was fine.”

Ra’s wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not, but a burning, too full, almost bubbling feeling was building in his chest again and he wasn’t sure how long he could restrain it.

“I’ve woken up in lots of weird places and in much worse situations so that wasn’t really that upsetting- though I don’t like being chained or tied up in any way.” Harry pursed his lips and looked away. “Even if it was totally useless, I still don’t approve. But I’m not mad about it.”

“I see,” Ra’s said, even though he did not.

“I  _ am _ mad about that magical cuff you put on me,” Harry turned back to him with a glare. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you pocket it- I swear if you put it on me again, I’m lighting something important on fire. I’m not going to be  _ nice _ next time.”

“Noted.” Ra’s snorted. Harry had set quite a lot of things on fire last night, and thrown a very impressive tantrum as he did.

“But what I absolutely hate,” Harry continued, voice growing hard, “is that you took my things and destroyed them.” 

He glared at Ra’s, eyes greener than anything Ra’s had ever seen and shimmering as if a fire were lighting them from the inside somehow. 

“I  _ liked _ that hoodie. It was  _ mine. _ You do  _ not _ have the right to get rid of something that’s mine, understand?”

Ra's snorted likely appearing dismissive, but he did understand. After all, he would have reacted the same if their positions were reversed. Well… he might not have given fair warning, but they  _ were _ soulmates, so maybe he would have bestowed such kindness as well. 

"I promise that so long as you are properly dressed, I will not have any reason to destroy your clothing, dearest."

"That is absolutely the wrong take away from what I just said." Harry sighed and sat back, sliding away from Ra's so they faced each other on the sofa. "But, strangely, I have experience with this sort of nonsense, so I already know that's the best I'll get from you."

"Then you agree?" Ra's asked. Harry blinked at him. 

"Agree with what?"

"That you should stay with me." Ra's trailed his fingers along Harry's arm as he raised his own up and over the young man's shoulders. He pulled them closer again, and he did love that Harry never tried to stop him. "That we belong together."

Harry laughed softly and pressed his face into Ra's' collar. "Oh _ Merlin,  _ no. No, we definitely need to talk more before I decide anything."

Ra's frowned as Harry breathed deep, taking in the scent of him, and pushed away. He moved back until they were just barely touching and gave him a wry smirk. 

"We have spoken," Ra's said. "I listened to your grievances, I apologized for every slight and you accepted. What more do you wish to argue over?"

_ "So _ many things right now," Harry muttered under his breath. "Seriously, why are they always crazy?"

Ra's glared at the insufferable young man. He didn't think he'd ever met anyone who could evoke so many varied emotions from him in such a short amount of time. He wasn't sure he liked it. 

But there was one thing he liked, and which he knew- no matter his protests- Harry liked as well. 

Instead of rising to what was clearly another bait to fight, Ra's relaxed and gave his soulmate a gentle, soothing smile. 

"Oh no," Harry's eyes widened almost immediately. "You smiling is weirdly creepy. What are you planning?"

Ra's let his smile grow as real pleasure filled his chest. "Oh, beloved,  _ so _ many things right now."

The flat look Harry gave him at that made him laugh aloud. Surely a bit of annoyance now and again was worth feeling like this. 


End file.
